The Wolf and the Hounds
by Autobot-Outcast
Summary: A series of robberies, the two courts of the fae and an Irish dark sorceress - just another day in Gravity Falls, right? Except the fae have been here before - and their attention is about to fall on the Mystery Shack. Rated for possible violence. Co-written with E350.
1. Prologue

This is what happens when myself and E350 get creative. We make a poorly-thought-out collab.

...It seemed like a good idea at the time.

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_July 2012_

It had rained heavily the night before, and the surrounding woodland was damp and misty.

Sam Scotford drove down the muddy back-road, humming to himself as the early morning sun filled the interior of the white Ford V8. He scanned the sides of the road – he was looking for something.

Sam was a largish man, broad-shouldered and tall, with fair skin and brown hair that reached a short way down his neck. He wore a faded fireman's jacket over a white t-shirt and somewhat ragged jeans, heavy boots on his feet. He wore sunglasses – not because of any affinity for shades, but because he happened to be driving in the direction of the sun.

He was on his way to a meeting.

He turned a corner in the road. A black Tucker Torpedo was parked across the road, a man leaning against the side. Sam braked and pulled over, stopping his car in a small mud pile. He jumped out, splashing into the sludge as he walked jovially over to the other man, who narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

"You're half-an-hour late, Scotford," sniffed the man.

"Maybe you're just half-an-hour early, Gordon," shrugged Sam.

Gordon was a pale, skinny man with short black hair. He was unusually tall in stature. He wore a pale grey suit with a blue tie – a rapier was sheathed at his waist. Narrowed grey eyes gazed into Sam's.

"So," he grunted, "I suppose by now you have the gist of what's going on here?"

"Something about that one town, right?" shrugged Sam.

Gordon pulled a map out of his suit jacket, opening it up on the bonnet of his car. He winced somewhat as Sam leaned over him.

"Gravity Falls," nodded Gordon. "Everyone's favourite pain in the backside."

"So what is it this time?" asked Sam. "Because I've told you, we don't actually have any authority over the gnomes..."

"I don't care about those stumpy gits," snapped Gordon, "and neither does Winter. This is about the Morrigan."

There was a long silence.

"Come again?" said Sam.

"The Morrigan," repeated Gordon, his tone somewhat testy. "The Morrigan has turned up in Gravity Falls."

Sam looked down at the map, his face falling.

"Does anybody else know about this?" he asked.

"Difficult to say," replied Gordon. "Outside our respective benefactors, hopefully no-one. _Hopefully_."

"So," mused Sam, "What do we do?"

"Isn't it obvious?" snapped Gordon. "We kill her, Scotford. We're basically hitmen after all, even if _you_ keep forgetting that."

"We're not _hitmen_," protested Sam, "we're..."

"...hired agents ordered to deal with living problems on a permanent basis," interrupted Gordon, "Otherwise known as _hitmen_. God, Scotford, do you have to be so _annoying?_"

"Only to you, Gordon," replied Sam, wryly.

"Oh, _joy_," muttered Gordon. "Right, we're going to have to scope her out, lest we accidentally get somebody who happens to look like our charge – _again_. Which, I might add, was your fault..."

"I was trying to _save_ the guy!" protested Sam.

"You ended up pulling him out into a six lane..."

Gordon groaned and pinched his nose, deciding not to pursue the argument.

"Not important right now," he said. "We'll split up – cover more ground, plus I don't have to deal with you as much. I'll handle the town, you scout out the woodlands. You'll like it, you can mingle with the other animals."

"I'll have to ask the boss," reminded Sam. "We're not usually on the same team..."

"The Morrigan is not a usual issue, Scotford," replied Gordon. "Get a line to your benefactors and meet me in Gravity Falls. Don't get lost."

He turned to his car.

"Ugh, who am I kidding?" he muttered, "I'll be lucky if I ever see you again."

"I cherish these moments too, Gordon," replied Sam brightly.

Gordon shot Sam a very nasty glare as he climbed into the driver's seat of his car. With the roar of an engine, he drove off into the distance.

Sam shook his head, reaching into his pocket and producing a phone. He pressed a button and held it up to his ear.

"Yep, it's me...you already know what Gordon wants? ...okay, sounds good, I'll get to it...thank you, my lady."

He hung up and walked over to his car, climbing in and putting the key into the ignition. The radio turned on – Sam grinned.

"Well," he said, "Gravity Falls, here we come."

He drove off into the distance, singing along to the radio.

_"__I've been everywhere, man,  
>I've been everywhere, man,<br>Crossed the deserts bare, man,  
>Breathed the mountain air, man,<br>Of travel I've had my share, man,  
>I've been everywhere...<em>

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><p><strong>JO. XQYXPE FP LRQ LC LCCFZB RKQFI JLKAXV. TB PELRIA YLQE YB EBOB YV QEBK.<strong>

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><p>AN: There is no possible way this can be bad news. No sir.<p> 


	2. Chapter 1: How It All Began

And here we go...

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><p><strong>Chapter I: How It All Began<strong>

It just didn't make sense.

Dipper Pines sat at the kitchen table, looking over a collection of scraps and notes he had made over the past week. All of it was related to very strange goings on in the town – even by Gravity Falls standards.

It had begun about five days ago, the day after Woodstick. Stan had been answering difficult questions from the police about his hot air balloon, so Dipper and Mabel had ventured outside to do some exploring. When they'd returned, they had found that Dipper's notes on the Author's identity had vanished.

That was only the first in a line of odd disappearances around the town. The next day, the library had been robbed – the day after that, it was the museum, and the next day it was the Northwest manor. Naturally, the last one was the only one that got any serious police attention. In every case, there was no sign of a culprit, no sign of any disturbance – even security cameras never showed anything out of the ordinary.

This made Dipper's attempts to find the culprit rather difficult, to say the least.

Dipper chewed on his pencil as he grasped in his mind for any possible explanation. Nothing immediately came to mind.

"Hey bro, what'cha doing?"

Mabel sauntered into the room, carrying Waddles in her arms. She sat down on the other side of the table, looking over Dipper's work.

"I'm trying to find out who stole my notes," replied Dipper, wearily. "But so far, I've got nothing! It's like we got robbed by a ghost or something..."

"You gonna need me to get out the lamb costume, Di..."

"_No._"

Dipper sighed and rubbed his temples.

"I just need to know where my notes are," he muttered. "I mean, _anybody_ could be reading them right now..."

"...yeah, and they might find those letters you wrote in the..." Mabel began.

"_Mabel_," grunted Dipper.

Mabel chuckled.

"Don't worry, Dipping Sauce," she reassured. "Whoever took them probably forgot they had 'em ages ago. Besides, you can replace them, can't you?"

"Yeah, but...but this guy got into the Shack without anybody noticing," reminded Dipper. "They got past Stan, Soos and the co...Stan and Soos! They've gotta be some kind of genius, or a cat burglar..."

"...or a cat person!" exclaimed Mabel.

"You might have a point, I'll check the Journal," mused Dipper, reaching for it and opening it up.

"Kids! I need someone to do manual labour for me!"

Stan walked into the room, carrying a small basket.

"Not it," said Dipper.

"Not i...ah, _dang it!_" exclaimed Mabel.

"First come, first served," shrugged Stan. "Mabel, I need something to fill up the gift shop. Go out and find some berries or something. Try to check if they're poison, but really I don't care."

"Can I take Waddles?" asked Mabel.

"Sure, why not?" shrugged Stan. "Gets him out of my hair for a while."

Mabel cheered and ran up to the attic to fetch the pig carrier, Waddles at her feet. Stan raised an eyebrow before leaning over Dipper.

"Any luck finding the guy that robbed us?" he asked.

"Nope," sighed Dipper, "nothing."

"Well, tell me when you've got something," replied Stan. "I want him found before he tries to steal something_ important_, like my merch!"

He walked away, arms crossed.

"Gee, _thanks_, Grunkle Stan," muttered Dipper.

He sighed again and looked over the notes once more.

"Come on, there's gotta be something in here," he muttered.

He stared down for a few seconds before growling and clutching his hair.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "I need some air."

He got up and walked outside.

* * *

><p>Soos was at the grocery store, picking up Shack necessities that Stan was too lazy to collect himself. He was humming merrily to himself and making a little dance out of packing his cart with tinned meat.<p>

"Do de do de do," he hummed, "putting the groceries into the cart, singing about it for no reason..."

"...no, no, I don't think you get what I'm saying, you dunces..."

Soos heard a voice from not far away. Slowly, he backed up to the end of the isle, leaning out towards the registers. A man in a grey suit was gesticulating wildly at Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland.

"I'm looking for someone," the man was saying. "Black hair, black clothing, black everything..."

"Y'all mean like some kinda Men in Black thing?" quizzed Durland.

"No, she's a _woman_," replied the man, his tone testy. "My benefactors in the Bureau believe she's responsible for the robberies you've been experiencing."

Soos suppressed a gasp.

"Sorry," shrugged Blubs, "we ain't seen nothin'. Right now we're chalkin' the Northwest robbery to marauding beavers."

"_Marauding beavers?!_" exclaimed the man.

"Saves time on investigatin'," shrugged Blubs.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright," he grunted, "clearly you're not going to help me. Is there anywhere I can go for answers on this?"

"Well, there's the Mystery Shack," shrugged Blubs. "Reckon you'll get some help from that there Mr. Mystery fella."

"Plus you can see the Sascrotch!" exclaimed Durland.

The man shot Durland a glare.

"Well, I'll take what I can get," he grunted. "A pox on both your houses."

He turned and walked away.

"What a nice man," said Durland.

Soos raised his eyebrows as the man left.

"Gasp," he said, vocalising the word. "A _clue._"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Time for me to practice my tailing skills," he declared.

He walked after the man, singing quietly to himself.

"_Secret Agent Soos, Secret Agent Soos..._"

* * *

><p>Dipper sat on a tree stump out in the woods, reading through the journal with the black light. It was a nice day – the sun shone, the birds sang and the air was clean. It was doing wonders for Dipper's mood, but he still felt a mild frustration at his lack of leads.<p>

"There's gotta be something in here," he grunted. "I mean, this Journal's never failed me before..."

He rubbed his hand through his hair.

"Ugh, if only there was some kind of sign!" he groaned.

Just then, in the breeze, he heard a faint whistling sound.

"Well," nodded Dipper, "that was convenient."

He got up from the stump, looking in the direction of the whistling. Slowly, he crept up towards a tree and peeked out from behind it.

A large man in a fireman's jacket was walking through the trees, an axe axe over his shoulder. He was whistling to himself, glancing left and right as he disappeared into the growth. Dipper raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that's not suspicious at all," he muttered.

He followed the stranger into the bushes.

* * *

><p>Stan stood beside the counter at the Mystery Shack, reading a newspaper as he waited for a sucker to arrive. Next to him, Wendy was slouched over the counter, tapping idly on the wooden surface.<p>

There was a dull oink, and Waddles jumped onto the desk.

"Hey dude," said Wendy, rubbing Waddles' head.

"I thought I said that pig wasn't allowed on the counter," snapped Stan. "I don't want his pig germs on my money..."

He paused, scratching his chin.

"Wait, if Waddles is _here_, then...then who's with Mabel..."

His eyes widened.

"Oh no!" he exclaimed. "We have two pigs!"

* * *

><p>Mabel was rummaging through a bush, picking random berries and alternating between throwing them in a basket and eating them. One or two ended up in Waddles' mouth.<p>

"Ah, what a beautiful day," she sighed. "The sun is shining, Waddles' flesh is rippling in the breeze, the grass is..."

She trailed off.

"...wait, what?"

Her eyes widened as Waddles began to change form, standing on his hind legs as he grew taller. Like a grotesque mockery of a claymation, he formed into the shape of a woman.

The woman was tall and would probably be described as immensely beautiful, were it not for that fact that her skin was a bit too pale. Raven-black hair ran down to her ankles, and she was clad in a dark grey dress. Blood red eyes gazed down into Mabel's, whose mouth hung open.

"Oh my gosh," she breathed. "Waddles is a werewoman. All my dreams have come true."

"Mabel Pines," said the woman, her voice laced with an Irish brogue. "Finally, we meet in the flesh."

"Ooh, and you're so creepy, too," nodded Mabel. "Is this your Summerween form, Waddles?"

"That is not my name," replied the woman. "I am the Morrigan."

"Can I call you Morrie?" asked Mabel.

"No," replied the Morrigan, "You may not."

She sneered.

"Actually," she said, "you may call me something else."

Her form began to shift again. Mabel's eyes widened as the Morrigan took on a very familiar form, her height shortening by half in the process.

"You may call me Mabel," said the Morrigan, her voice and body a perfect imitation of Mabel's.

"Wow," breathed Mabel. "Now I have a _real_ twin! ...Sorry, Dipper."

She skipped over to the Morrigan, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"So, what're we gonna do, _Mabel 2?_" asked Mabel. "Go freak out Dipper? Cover the whole Shack with stickers? Prank call Gideon in jail?"

"Actually, Mabel, I'm afraid I've made you a little..._redundant_," replied the Morrigan, her face twisting into a very uncharacteristic sneer.

"Redundant?" quizzed Mabel.

"Oh, I assure you it's nothing personal," replied the Morrigan. "It's just that I need something from your little Shack...and someone out of the way."

"Out of the way?" demanded Mabel. "Wait, no, that's not how a Mabel works! Waddles, you stop this right..."

"My name is not Waddles," reminded the Morrigan. "In fact, right now it is Mabel Pines."

"But _I'm _Mabel Pines!" exclaimed Mabel.

"You were," nodded the Morrigan. "But not anymore."

"What do you..."

The Morrigan pointed and uttered something in a language Mabel didn't understand. There was a sudden bolt of purple, and Mabel was blasted against a tree. Strangely, the impact didn't hurt, and when she landed, everything seemed much larger than it had been before. The Morrigan towered over her, crossing her arms as she looked over Mabel's slumped form. Mabel tried to ask what had happened, but her mouth would not move.

"Although you _do_ make a good impression of me," the Morrigan sneered.

She conjured up a mirror and held it up. If Mabel's jaw responded to her commands, it would have dropped.

She had turned into a small plush doll, apparently hand stitched, with no fingers. Her eyes had been replaced by small brown beads, and her mouth was nothing more than a stitched black line. Her hair was made of the same kind of fabric as her body and shaped into a reasonable facsimile of her normal style.

"Well," said the Morrigan, throwing the mirror away, "I must be off. I'm sure someone will claim you eventually, if the birds don't eat you first. Nobody will miss you, in any case."

She turned around.

"Anyway, back to the Shack," she declared. "Stanford Pines won't kill himself."

She chuckled as she vanished into the trees, leaving a scared and stranded Mabel alone.

_Still_, she thought, _At least I'm adorable. Glass half full, you know?_

* * *

><p><strong>JVY KOOK GVO ROHYZ QY - AOQUPW KOOP JO JVYCJLYK PYCL EOI<strong>

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><p>AN: On the bright side, at least it's not Mark Hamill this time.<p> 


	3. Chapter 2: Into The Woods

Unfortunately we couldn't get Johnny Depp, but you take what you can get.

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**Guest:** Thanks for the review and the vote of confidence.

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><p><strong>Chapter II: Into The Woods<br>**

Dipper slipped behind some bushes as the man he was following halted.

The stranger knelt down in a small clearing. He had left his axe leaning against a tree on the far side of the clearing - within easy reach, but out of the way. He was scratching something into the dirt with chalk - it looked like a circle.

Apparently satisfied, the man reached into his jacket and took out a layered malt biscuit, placing it carefully in the middle of his odd drawing. Then he did something that made Dipper even more curious - he bit into the tip of his own right thumb.

The stranger let a drop of blood fall onto the circle, before sucking the cut briefly and shaking his hand, muttering "ow" under his breath. He then moved back over to the side of the clearing, crouching by his axe.

"Caerdwyn," the man muttered. "Caerdwyn...Caerdwyn..." He then raised his left hand into the air and made an exaggerated motion similar to closing a zip-lock bag.

Then the man vanished.

He didn't fade into the background. He didn't get hard to see. He simply disappeared without disturbing a single twig or leaf. Dipper tried very hard not to gasp.

_That shouldn't be possible,_ he was thinking. _Whatever Gravity Falls is, it still obeys the laws of physics. People don't just disappear. If we've finally found something that can teleport, there should at least have been a loud pop! I should check the Journal..._

Before he could get very far with this train of thought, he heard a faint buzzing. He crouched deeper in the shrubbery.

A small, glowing green thing came flying into the clearing, circled it twice and landed next to the biscuit. The shape forged itself into a small man, roughly seven inches high and supporting himself with a set of dragonfly wings. He seemed to be wearing a dismembered can of Pitt cola over an Action Man costume several sizes too big for him, and had stopsign-red hair. He rubbed his palms and picked up the biscuit lovingly.

The circle glowed briefly.

The small pixie immediately dropped the biscuit and looked around angrily. He settled on looking in Dipper's direction.

"Listen here, whoever you are, I'm not to be messed with, you hear?" he shouted in a somewhat shrill and tinny voice. "I'm an important guy around here' ya know? Don't...don't mess with me!"

The stranger in the fire jacket reappeared, exactly where he had been before.

_Oh_, thought Dipper. _Invisibility. Now _that_ makes sense._

The pixie went pale. "S...Sam!" he said as warmly as he could while trembling slightly. "I...I wasn't expecting you."

"Clearly," said the stranger.

"Um...why the circle, sir Knight?"

"Because you always run off if I call you without it," said Sam.

"You made me step into a circle," said the pixie, somewhat huffily, "You have insulted me and I demand recompense."

"I put a Tim-Tam there. You entered the circle of your own free will. In fact, I've fed you, which means, if anything, _you_ owe _me_." He crossed his arms. "Did you honestly expect that would work on me, Caer?"

"...Not really," the pixie said, somewhat dismally.

"Eat the biscuit," said Sam. "We'll talk business when you're done."

* * *

><p>The afternoon was quiet and the gift shop was nearly empty. Wendy leant over the counter, rapping her fingers on the table. Next to her, Waddles had lost interest in wandering around and had fallen asleep behind the counter. It was all very boring.<p>

"Yep," she muttered, "another exciting day at the Mystery Shack."

She sighed heavily and glanced at the clock. Quite suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Wendy!" Stan shouted from the other room. "Get the door! I'm too lazy to get up!"

Wendy rolled her eyes and walked over to the gift shop door.

A pale man in a grey suit stood at the door, wearing the world's surliest expression.

"Hello, my name is Gordon," he said. "I am from a nondescript government organisation. I have two questions for you. One; can I talk to the owner of this building? Two; is this yours?"

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Soos' hat could just about be seen behind a car in the parking lot.

"Secret Agent Soos has failed," lamented Soos, emerging from his hiding spot.

"Mr. Pines!" called Wendy. "Some creepy guy from the government wants you!"

"If you run, I will follow!" Gordon called.

Stan emerged from the employees only door like a bat out of hell, carrying a wad of cash, which he seemed to be about to throw.

"_Here, take a bribe!_" he yelled, hurling the money in Gordon's face.

Gordon made no reaction to the volley of money, save for a raised eyebrow.

"Sir, you're not in trouble," he explained. "I need to ask you some questions about a fugitive. Goes by the name Morrigan."

For a fraction of a second, Wendy could have sworn she'd seen Stan's eyes widen.

"Never heard of her," he replied, a little too quickly. "I don't even know what you're saying! I'm senile or something! Go home."

Gordon narrowed his eyes.

"I don't _have_ a home," he snapped. "That means I have _plenty_ of time to stand here and wait until you tell me what you know."

"Well I...I-uh-I...oh, why?" groaned Stan, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Mr. Pines?" asked Soos, walking over. "What's going on? You haven't stammered this much since the IRS came round."

Stan shook his head.

"Alright, tall-pale-and-creepy, here's how it's gonna be," he snapped. "You come with me – _alone_. Soos, lock down the Shack. Wendy, find the kids and bring them back here. Don't talk to anyone, not even your own grandmother _Soos_."

"Yes sir, Mr. Pines sir!" saluted Soos, running into the Shack.

"Uh, Stan?" asked Wendy. "What the heck is going on here?"

"Don't ask questions, just do it," snapped Stan. "Go!"

He pointed to the woods with his cane. Wendy nodded and ran off.

She had a nagging feeling that the whole situation was about to go snowballing out of control. She had no idea how right she was.

* * *

><p>"Did you enjoy it?"<p>

Caerdwyn shot Sam a dirty look as he stuffed the last of the Tim-Tam into his mouth.

"Tell you what," said Sam brightly, "I'll let you out if you promise to hang about until I say otherwise. Okay?"

"Fine," the pixie said tersely. "I promise by my honour to stay within sight and presence of yourself, until you specifically and intentionally release me from this task."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"No exploiting loopholes?"

"...Fine," said Caerdwyn.

Sam reached out and calmly waved his hand over the circle's edge and the pixie within immediately flew out of it, coming to rest on the far side of the clearing. He was eyeing the axe nervously.

"I need information," said Sam. "You're the guy in the know around here. So, what's to know?"

"Well," said Caerdwyn, "the gnomes are on the move. That's the big news."

"I'm not here about that," said the axeman.

"Um...there's a gremloblin in the woods around here? _Man_, that goblin must have been desperate..."

"Not here about that." All the warmth had gone from Sam's tone.

"Um...the local humans are all total idiots?"

Sam frowned. It was much scarier than it should have been.

"I'm here about the Morrigan," he said, and Caerdwyn went even paler. "You and your kin among the Little Folk see _everything_ around here, and they all tell _you_. If it moves, _you_ know. So, what do you know about her?"

Caerdwyn fidgeted, and said nothing.

"If you tell me," said Sam as he reached into his jacket pocket, "I'll give you _this_."

The pixie's face lit up. "Is...is that a..."

"It's a Mars bar," said Sam, holding up the candy. "Fresh-bought, too. No second-hand sugar here, baby."

Caerdwyn had started salivating. It looked a little disturbing.

"Gimme..." he muttered.

"Only if you answer. What do you know about the Morrigan?" asked Sam.

"Ah...uh...um...we were too...um...afraid to get close to her..."

"That doesn't mean you didn't see, Caer," said Sam, his tone going cold again. "Thrice I will ask and done, Wyldling. _What do you know about the Morrigan and her recent activities?_"

"We...ah...this didn't come from me, y'hear?" the pixie stuttered.

"Deal."

"She started out by turning into this old homeless guy, then she was a mailman, then that Northwest fella, then she turned into a pig. Belonged to some kid. Carries lots of sugar, really sloppy with carrying it too. We like this one."

"Boy or a girl?" asked Sam.

"How should I know? You all look equally ugly."

"_Mabel_," breathed Dipper, taking a half-step back in shock. The laws of drama dictated a twig should snap, which it did, and the shrubbery should rustle, which it did.

Dipper took a moment to mentally curse the concept of drama.

Both the people in the clearing looked his way. "Come out," called Sam. There was an unsettling edge in his voice. "Quickly now! I won't ask again."

Dipper somewhat reluctantly stood up and stepped out. He tried to look imposing, but he was covered in loose twigs and leaves with a journal under one arm, so the effect was underwhelming.

"Who are you?" asked Sam.

"This one is the twin of the one the Morrigan was with," said Caerdwyn. "Studies the supernatural."

"Twin?" said Sam. "This 'Mabel' is your sister?"

Dipper nodded.

"What happened to her?" he demanded. "I need to know."

Caerdwyn looked at Sam, who nodded.

"She took the pig into the woods," said Caerdwyn. "The Morrigan changed back to normal, then turned into the girl. Polymorphed the girl, then ran off. Said something about a 'Stanford'. You know a Stanford?"

"_Polymorphed?_" shouted Dipper.

"Hate to break it to ya, kid, but your sister's a doll now."

Dipper stared straight ahead, trying to wrap his mind around what had happened. He couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. His sister _couldn't_ be a doll. She just _couldn't_. It wasn't _possible_, even in Gravity Falls.

Then he came to his senses. They were the Mystery Twins. That meant they did everything together. If it actually was true, then all he had to do was get to her. Things would work out. They always did, as long as the Mystery Twins were side-by-side.

"Where is she?" he demanded, grabbing the pixie out of the air.

"Hey, mind the wings!"

"Can you lead me to her?" Dipper asked.

"Only if you stop shaking me, kid," said Caerdwyn.

"Let him go," said Sam. "Caerdwyn, take us straight there. I might be able to help her if we're not too late."

"What happens if we _are_ too late?" asked Dipper, worriedly.

"...We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," replied Sam.

He and Dipper followed the pixie further into the woods.

* * *

><p>Soos stood outside the back of the Shack, nailing wooden boards onto the windows. It was perhaps an indictment of the Mystery Shack that this was not an uncommon procedure.<p>

"You know, I've been thinking," he said to himself. "What if this Morrigan is the one who stole Dipper's notes?"

He scratched his chin.

"Maybe I could find her!" he declared. "Redeem Secret Agent Soos-oh, hi Mabel."

Mabel walked up towards the back door, absently waving back to Soos. The handyman immediately walked up to her, grinning.

"Dude, I think we can find Dipper's notes!" he exclaimed.

"That is nice, Soos," nodded Mabel, "but right now I need to find..."

"This government guy turned up," continued Soos, "and he said something about someone called Morrigan, and I thought..." He gasped theatrically. "_The burglar!_"

Mabel stopped, raising an eyebrow.

"And what did he tell you about the Morrigan?" she demanded, forcefully.

"...Well, basically nothing," replied Soos. "But Mr. Pines got really worked up about it and sent Wendy out to look for you dudes while _I_ locked down the Shack. Figure she must be pretty dangerous or something, _ergo_ she is the thief. Makes sense!"

"So you think the Morrigan is dangerous, so you want to go after her," said Mabel, tilting her head.

"Isn't that what we always do?" replied Soos. "I mean, there was the Gobblewonker, the Bunker, those Blind Eye dudes..."

"Fair enough, my simple friend," nodded Mabel, "I am afraid I cannot help you at the moment, Soos – I need to find Stan. But don't worry..."

She smiled unsettlingly.

"...I am sure she will turn up soon."

She walked into the Shack.

"That's what I like about Mabel," nodded Soos. "So optimistic."

He went back to boarding up the window, content in the fact that everything seemed in order.

* * *

><p>"In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps..."<p>

"Caer, remember that talk we had about good times to sing and bad times to sing?" said Sam.

"Oh, right, yeah," nodded Caerdwyn. "Sorry."

Dipper sprinted through the woods, trying to keep up with Sam and Caerdwyn. He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead and cursed his short legs.

"Here it is!" blurted the pixie.

"Don't tell the whole forest, Caer," reminded Sam. "She could still be around."

"Wait, she could be, couldn't she?" realised Caerdwyn. "Uh, can I go now?"

"_No._"

Caerdwyn gulped and nodded. He pointed at the base of a tree.

"Well, there it is," he said, much more quietly.

Dipper reached the tree and knelt down. The felt, tiny and limp form of the doll that was his sister lay on the roots, gazing blankly at the sky.

"Oh, Mabel," he breathed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, creepy, innit," nodded Caerdwyn. "I mean, it's got this creepy eye..."

"_Will you stop calling her _it_?!_" demanded Dipper, swatting his hand at the pixie.

"Okay, okay, geesh!" exclaimed Caerdwyn. "You're takin' this way too personally!"

"Caer," reminded Sam, "It's his sister."

Dipper gingerly picked up Mabel, looking over her form with wide eyes.

"Can...can she hear us?" asked Dipper.

"Oh, definitely," nodded Sam. "The question is can we turn her back?"

"And if we can't, will she look good on your mantelpiece?" added Caerdwyn.

"_Caer!_" snapped Sam.

"What, it's a legitimate question," shrugged Caerdwyn.

Sam got his chalk out again. He drew a circle on the ground.

"Sister," he said, holding his hand out as if asking for a tool.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Mabel," whispered Dipper, handing her to Sam.

Sam nodded and placed Mabel in the circle. He touched the rim of the circle with the first two fingers on his right hand. There was a faint shimmer – Dipper instinctively stepped back.

"Okay, good news or bad news?" asked Sam.

"Uh...bad news?" gulped Dipper. "She-she's gonna be fine, right?"

"For a given value of _fine_, yes," replied Sam. "Her form has set, so I can't turn her back. I _can_ animate her, though, and with more power, we can probably..."

"Wait, so my sister's gonna be a doll for the rest of her life?" demanded Dipper.

"Let me finish my sentence, kid," said Sam, raising a finger. "With more power, we can probably turn her back. We've got plenty of time to find it, considering dolls don't age..."

"Yeah, that's very helpful, thank you," grunted Dipper, crossing his arms. "Where do we get more power from?"

"I know a guy," replied Sam. "In the meantime..."

Dipper reached for his sister. Sam grabbed his arm and pulled it back.

"_Don't_ break the circle," he snapped.

"What happens if I break the circle?" asked Dipper.

"You know Atlantis?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't break the circle."

Dipper very quickly withdrew his arm.

Sam looked back at the circle, closing his eyes and moving his arm back towards the circle. It began to shimmer again – it was admittedly a lot duller than Dipper had expected.

After a few minutes, Sam dropped his arm, opened his eyes and leaned back slightly.

Mabel sat up.

"Dipper!" she exclaimed, extending her arms. "Your friend did it! I'm back to normal!"

"Mabel!" exclaimed Dipper. "You're...uh, you're not actually back to normal..."

Mabel looked down at her plush hands, then over to the comparatively gigantic Dipper.

"Eh, I'll take what I can get," she shrugged.

"Plus, ageless," shrugged Sam.

"Wait, I don't get something here," said Caerdwyn. "How's the doll talking?"

"I don't know, let's ask the _pixie_," snapped Dipper.

Sam reached out again, breaking the circle and grabbing Mabel. He held her out for Dipper.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Mabel as Dipper picked her up and rested her on his hat. "I mean, I can't stay a doll forever!"

"Technically, you can," replied Caerdwyn.

"Not helping, Caer," said Sam. "If you want to help, go and find your friends. Tell them there's a chocolate cake in it for them if they go find the Morrigan."

Caerdwyn saluted poorly and flew away.

"Do you think he's gonna come back?" asked Dipper.

"He should," replied Sam. "I've still got his Mars bar. Now, we need to find that guy I know. And this 'Stanford' she's looking for, while we're at it..."

"You mean Grunkle Stan?" interrupted Mabel.

Sam blinked.

"Are you two paranormal conduits or something?"

"Come on," shrugged Dipper, "he's probably back at the Shack. Let's..."

"Dipper!"

Wendy emerged from the trees.

"Come on, man, we've gotta find Mabel..."

"Hi, Wendy!" said Mabel, waving.

Wendy froze and did a slight double-take as she looked over the scene. She glanced between the doll Mabel, the stranger in the fireman's jacket with the axe and the twelve-year-old boy who clearly wasn't fazed by this in the least.

"...You'll explain on the way?" she asked.

"Yep," nodded Dipper, "Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>KCQ UK REUPW. CJRCPJUK GCK ZYKJLOEYZ UP C XLYCS GYCJVYLHCPY CAAUZYPJ. GCSY IN KVYYNRY.<strong>

* * *

><p>AN: Just another day in Gravity Falls.<p> 


	4. Chapter 3: Coming Together

In which everything falls apart.

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**TweenisodeOrange:** Dramatic irony is the best type of irony. Thanks for the review. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter <strong>**III: Coming Together**

Stan closed the door to his office and walked over to his desk, leaning back on his chair as he looked over his visitor.

"So," he said, "the Morrigan's back?"

"It would seem," replied Gordon. "You've dealt with her, then?"

"Not for thirty years, but yeah," nodded Stan. "McGucket disturbed her, things went downhill, swore revenge, y'know, the usual."

"Most people don't just _disturb_ the Morrigan," snapped Gordon. "What were you doing?"

"Classified," grunted Stan.

"What does that mean?" demanded Gordon.

"It means mind your own damn business," snapped Stan.

"Fair enough," muttered Gordon. "So, what do you know of the Sidhe?"

Stan narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Who's asking?" he demanded.

Gordon raised his left arm and pulled his sleeve. The image of a snowflake was imprinted on the front of his wrist.

"Winter Knight," he replied.

"That supposed to impress me?" asked Stan.

"Impresses most people," grunted Gordon, "and most of them are dead within five minutes."

"So you're a hitman," replied Stan. "You do dirty work for the Winter Queen. Still don't see why that's impressive."

Gordon narrowed his eyes.

"Alright, back on topic," he grumbled. "The Morrigan's loose in this town, and both courts want her found before she does something..._unpleasant_. We don't know what she wants, but it's..."

"_I_ know what she wants," interrupted Stan.

"Oh _really?_" replied Gordon, raising an eyebrow. "Would you care to..."

The door swung open. Mabel walked into the room.

"Uh, Mabel," said Stan, standing up, "we're having some, uh, _secret-y_ talk, you know, like when I talk to my lawyer..."

Mabel locked eyes with Gordon. The Winter Knight raised an eyebrow.

"So," he said, "is this your grandkid or something?"

"Grandniece," replied Stan.

"Are you _completely _sure about that?" asked Gordon.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," said Mabel, her tone serene. "Why would I _not_ be Stanford's great-niece?"

"Well, you never know, do you?" replied Gordon. "Word on the street is we have a shapeshifter on the loose."

"Do not be silly," scoffed Mabel, "shapeshifters are not real."

"Oh, I think you'll find they are, M," replied Gordon. His eyes briefly flicked to a photo on Stan's desk. "You can tell. 'Mabel's' eyes are _brown_..._so why are yours green?_"

Mabel scowled. The expression looked deeply _wrong_ on her face.

"Mabel, what..." began Stan.

"_Lasair!_" she exclaimed, throwing out a hand towards Gordon.

A jet of flame burst from her hand. Stan leapt behind his desk, swearing loudly, as Gordon raised an arm, blurting out a word Stan couldn't quite hear as his arm became encased in ice.

"Nice try, Morrigan," the Knight sniffed from behind his newly-frozen wall.

"I'm only getting started, Winter Knight," snarled the Morrigan.

Stan climbed out from behind his desk.

"Morrigan!" he exclaimed.

"Stanford," nodded the Morrigan. "It's been a while. You've gotten fat."

"Get out of Mabel's form," snarled Stan. "_Right now._"

"Why?" replied the Morrigan. "It's light, it's nimble, and I get to do _this._"

She turned to the door.

"_SOOS!"_ she cried. "_STAN'S A SHAPESHIFTER!_"

"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Stan.

"My turn," snapped Gordon.

He flung out his arm. The Morrigan was thrown into the air as if hit by a semi-trailer, smashing through the door and the wall across the hall.

"Hey, watch the building!" snapped Stan as Gordon followed her through the newly created doorways.

As he left, Soos ran inside, shovel in hand.

"Alright, creepy bro," he snapped. "Prepare to be Soos'd!"

"Soos, I'm not the shapeshifter," grunted Stan. "Mabel is."

"That's exactly what a shapeshifter would say!" thundered Soos, raising the shovel ominously.

"If I was a shapeshifter," replied Stan, "would I know that you've been using the same screwdriver for the past ten years?"

There was a long silence.

"Alright, lucky guess," said Soos, his tone wary. "But it doesn't prove..."

"Your aunt calls you Soo-Soo," grunted Stan.

"Oh, Mr. Pines!" exclaimed Soos. "I'm _so_ sorry, I nearly hit you with a shovel!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," grumbled Stan. "Come on."

He led Soos out through the holes the Morrigan had made and into the Gift Shop. As they entered, there was a flash of red as Gordon was thrown back into the counter, smashing it into splinters. The Winter Knight recovered immediately, drawing a rapier and charging his quarry.

"Dude," exclaimed Soos, "this is awesome!"

"I guess _you're_ paying to fix all this, then?" said Stan, distinctly unamused.

"Shutting up," muttered Soos.

"Well," snapped Stan, pulling off his jacket, "she stole Mabel's form and she's trashing my merch. Now it's _personal._"

He grabbed a car muffler from a bucket marked 'perfectly safe children's toys' and charged, screaming an unintelligible war cry. He leapt into the air at the last moment and swung the muffler over the Morrigan's head. The shapeshifter, occupied with Gordon and not expecting the attack, was knocked to the ground.

"_Where's Mabel?!_" he thundered, raising the muffler again.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," grunted Gordon.

"Shut up!" shouted Stan.

"I _am_ Mabel," replied the Morrigan, "Can't you tell? Now kindly _get off me!_"

She kicked upwards at Stan, sending him flying into a display cabinet full of snow globes, all of which promptly shattered. The Morrigan sneered and walked over to him, her arms encased in fire.

"Get used to this, Stanford," snarled the Morrigan, "Because I am now the only Mabel left."

"_WRONG!_"

The Gift Shop door had been flung open.

Dipper, Wendy and a man in a fireman's jacket stood at the door. A doll was sitting on Dipper's hat – and much to Stan's surprise, it seemed to be pointing. He looked more closely and realised that it looked surprisingly familiar.

The Morrigan scowled.

"How are you alive?" she demanded. "How are you _animate?_"

"You," thundered the doll Mabel, "are a _horrible _Mabel! Now _give me my body back!_"

Gordon turned to the man in the fire jacket. He sighed. "Scotford, do I even need to ask?" he grunted.

"Nope!" replied Sam. "Now, shall we deal with her?" He waved his arm towards the Morrigan.

"I'd like to see you try, Summer Knight," snapped the Morrigan.

"Dude, dude, can someone tell me what's going on?" asked Soos. "I'm kind of confused..."

He was ignored as the two Knights flung themselves at the Morrigan, Sam drawing his axe. The Morrigan ducked under their combined attacks, rolling out of the way in the process. She began to run for the door – but suddenly her view was blocked by a small, plush object.

Mabel had thrown herself at her doppelganger.

"This is what you get," bellowed Mabel, flaying her tiny and admittedly useless plush arms at the Morrigan's face, "for stealing my life!"

"Quick, Mabel, go for the eyes!" shouted Wendy.

The Morrigan growled and peeled Mabel off her face. "I should have just torn you apart, you craven little-"

There was a crash as Sam hurled the last standing merchandise rack into her back. She stumbled, dropping Mabel and edging towards the door. She scowled.

"I will be back, and I will kill you _all_," she scowled, "Éalú...éalú..._éalú!_"

Her form blurred, and she seemed to simply evaporate out of existence. A faint cloud of smoke seeped out through various doors and windows, then all trace of her was gone.

There was another long silence.

"Nope, still don't get it, dudes," shrugged Soos.

Sam and Gordon dusted themselves off, the latter muttering something under his breath. Stan surveyed the ruins of his Gift Shop, shaking his head.

"Well, now we have a blood feud," he grunted, "This is what happens when you mess with the fae."

"Alright," snapped Dipper, "I need to know. Who are you and what the heck is going on?"

"Sam Scotford," introduced Sam.

"Gordon," grunted Gordon.

"Summer and Winter Knights of the fae," finished Sam, bowing.

"Much to my everlasting regret," muttered Gordon, failing to bow.

* * *

><p>The Shack crew and the Knights had moved to the break room. Dipper, Wendy and Soos sat on the couch, Stan leant against the door and the two Knights were standing in the middle of the room. Mabel was in Soos' hands, been tossed idly from side-to-side.<p>

"Soos, cut it out!" she snapped.

"Oh, sorry dude," said Soos. "It's just, you're so nimble and boneless."

"Yeah, can we fix that?" asked Dipper. "I kinda don't want to have to tell my parents they have a doll for a daughter."

Sam got out his chalk. "Lend me a hand, Gordon," he said.

"If I must," grumbled Gordon. "But if you want to save us the effort, you could just grow a spine and accept it."

"You're a terrible human being," snapped Wendy.

"Yes," replied Gordon.

Sam sketched out a somewhat haphazard circle on the floor, much to Stan's distaste ("Isn't it bad enough that you destroyed my Gift Shop?").

"Mabel," he said, extending an arm.

Soos handed Mabel over to the Knight. Sam placed her in the middle of the circle before sketching out a larger circle around the outside. He was much more careful in drawing this one.

"Got to admit," said Mabel, "I'm gonna miss being adorable."

"Eh, you're always adorable," said Stan. "Do I win carer brownie points for saying that?"

"Oh, Stan, you kidder, you," chuckled Mabel.

Sam touched two fingers to the outer circle. Soos instinctively reached towards it – Dipper slapped his hand away.

"Don't do that," he said. "Just..._don't do that_. Seriously."

"What have you been telling them?" whispered Gordon, putting his right hand on Sam's left shoulder.

Sam just smirked wryly.

* * *

><p>The preparation for the un-transfiguration took a long time. While they were waiting, Dipper flipped through the journal, furrowing his brow.<p>

"Anything on them in there, man?" asked Wendy.

"Barely," replied Dipper, keeping his voice low. "There's a little reference here, but it seems pretty off-hand."

He pointed to a small section in the corner of a general page about the woodlands of Gravity Falls. There was a brief paragraph about contacts 'F. and that boy he picked up had had with the Summer Court', but it didn't go into detail and quickly went off on a spiel about living trees.

"Well, F's probably McGucket, right?" mused Wendy. "Maybe we could go ask him about it when this all blows over?"

"He might not even remember it," shrugged Dipper. "If we could find out who was helping him..."

They were interrupted by Sam muttering an incantation. There was a disappointingly small flash of light – when it cleared, Mabel was sitting in the circle, one-hundred percent human.

"Mabel, you're back!" exclaimed Dipper as Sam broke the circle.

"Dipper!" cheered Mabel, scooping her brother into a hug.

"Well, that was kind of disappointing," admitted Soos. "I expected something different."

"You mean the nasty wet squelching sounds and muscular deformations that occur as she slowly and painfully reforms her innards?" replied Gordon. "That what you want?"

"...No."

"Be happy, then," grunted Gordon, taking his hand off of Sam's shoulder. "Now, if we're done using me as a Triple-A battery, we've got work to do."

"Oh, one more thing," said Sam. "Mabel, say _Teganau_."

"Why?" asked Mabel.

"Just do it, it might be cool," replied Sam.

"Ooh, I'm game!" said Soos.

"...OK, _Teganau_."

There was a flash of light, and suddenly Mabel was a doll again.

"What in the..."

"I threw in a little extra," shrugged Sam, "It'll last about a week. In the mean time, party trick! Just say the word again to change back."

"_Teganau._"

There was another flash and Mabel turned back.

"That is _awesome!_" exclaimed Mabel.

"That is confusing," said Dipper.

"That is completely pointless," grunted Gordon, "Thanks for using my power on that, Scotford, I'm really grateful. Now are we getting out of here or what?"

"Wait, getting out of here?" replied Wendy.

"Wendy, a dark sorceress has just started a blood feud with us," snapped Stan. "They're the kind of person who pursues you to the very end of the Earth, like tax investigators. The Shack's not safe anymore."

He cursed something under his breath.

"She'll be back, and probably with help," agreed Sam. "Gordon and I will work out a place to take you before we..."

There was a loud crash and a roar from outside.

"...or we could go now," said Sam.

"What is that?" exclaimed Dipper.

"Trust me kid, you don't want to know," snapped Gordon. "Alright, I'll get the threshold, you get a barrier up before..."

_SMASH_.

The guest room wall disappeared, showering the room in splinters and dust. As the dust cloud vanished, the distinctive silhouette of the Morrigan in her true form could be seen walking into view.

"Damn it, she's ready for us," growled Gordon.

"New plan!" shouted Sam. "_Run!_"

Dipper felt a hand on the back of his vest. There was a cry of "_Agorfa!_" and a sharp pull. He closed his eyes.

He felt himself land quite hard on a gravely, rough surface.

"Augh, everything hurts," he muttered as he opened his eyes.

He was sitting in a small forest clearing, surrounded by trees that looked nothing like those of the Oregon wilderness. The colours around seemed strange and slightly unnatural – slightly faded, in fact. Next to him, Wendy was getting to her feet, picking up her hat. She walked over to him.

"You okay, Dip?" she asked, offering a hand.

"I guess so," shrugged Dipper, taking it, "Where are we?"

"You're in Faerie."

Sam walked over to them, arms crossed as he looked around.

"Looks like wyldfae territory, to be exact," he added. "The real question is..."

Dipper looked around, realising that the three were alone.

"...where are the others?" he asked.

"Yep, that is the question," nodded Sam.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, on the other side of Faerie, a cry of enraged anguish split through the lands of the Winter Court.<p>

"_Damn it, Scotford!_"

* * *

><p><strong>U'RR KCHY EOI! ZORR NOGYLK, CAJUHCJY! <strong>

* * *

><p>AN: Let's face it, this is not the weirdest thing you've caught these guys doing.<p> 


	5. Chapter 4: The Lands of the Fae

I profusely apologise to anyone with a Glaswegian accent about to read this.

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**TweenisodeOrange:** Adventure ho! Thanks for the review.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: The Lands of the Fae<strong>

Mabel watched as Gordon paced left and right, swearing angrily.

They had landed in a small clearing surrounded by grey, leafless trees, tufts of snow on the ground around them. There was a faint mist in the air, and it was bitterly cold.

Soos hugged himself and shivered. "Dude, I really should've brought a jacket or something," he said. "No-one said we were going to Sweden..."

"This isn't Sweden, you dullard," snapped Gordon. "We're in Tir na Og."

"Tiered now what?" quizzed Mabel.

"I think I'm banned from there," mused Stan.

"For obvious reasons, the locals call it Faerie," grunted Gordon.

"Yep, _definitely_ banned from here, then," nodded Stan. "Blame McGucket."

Gordon raised an eyebrow.

"You've been to Faerie, mate?" he demanded. "What happened? Tell me."

"Oh yeah," nodded Stan, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a notepad, "I'll just write my story down here...hold on...here you go."

He turned around the notepad. It read '_suck a lemon, winter knight._'

Gordon narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"Wait a minute," said Soos. "Where's Dipper and Wendy?"

Mabel looked around, noticing the absence of her brother and friend.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "We've left them to the Morrigan! We have to go back!"

"They're fine, kid, Scotford took them," replied Gordon, his tone weary. "To the _wrong place._"

He grimaced and started walking into the trees.

"Come on," he ordered, "we have a meeting to attend."

"Meeting?" quizzed Mabel.

"Well, when I say _meeting_, I mean dropping in on two of the most powerful beings on the face of the Earth..._uninvited_," replied Gordon. "So hold your tongues and get ready. This is going to get very trippy, very quickly..."

* * *

><p>"I'll bet you anything that Gordon's saying this is my fault," said Sam.<p>

He, Dipper and Wendy were walking through the forest, the latter two looking wearily at their surroundings. Wendy had her axe out, and Dipper had picked up a large branch. It was quiet – almost too quiet.

"So, where are we going?" asked Dipper.

"We're going to see the Lady of the Lake, kid," replied Sam, rubbing his hands together.

"Wait," quizzed Wendy. "You mean as in _Excalibur_ Lady of the Lake? That's just a myth!"

"From my experience, ma'am, all myths are true to some extent," shrugged Sam. "Now, if we don't get interrupted, we should be able to..."

"_Stain an' deliver ye dobber!_"

About a dozen small, hairless, slightly shrivelled creatures burst out of the growth, clad in ragged brown leather armour and makeshift kilts. They were a sickly pale blue with oversized purple eyes, a perpetual frown under their almost non-existent noses. They held daggers in arms that were far too long and bony. At their front stood a creature with what seemed to be a pilfered Napoleonic shako – he seemed to be their leader.

"What the heck are those?" demanded Dipper.

"They look like gnomes that crawled out of a toxic waste dump," mused Wendy.

"Ah swatch loch a gnome, ye git?" snarled the leader. "We imps prood, _mighty_, mucker!"

"Aw _great,_" drawled Sam. "Imps."

"Ye whit, mucker?!" demanded the leader. "I'll hae yer heed fur 'at!"

"What is he even saying?" asked Wendy.

"Dinnae act loch ye dinnae ken!" thundered the leader. "We need tae imp we hae th' leid skills 'at gie e'en th' most shy speakers. Churchill naethin' oan us! We'll cut ye!"

There was a long silence.

"...What?" demanded Dipper.

"Alright, time out," said Sam, waving his arms. "Let's get back to basics here. Who am I dealing with?"

"Yoo deal wi' Jem, brither," declared Jem. "Mighty Jem! Ah am th' forest! Noo gezz bunsens ur prepaur tae barnie!"

"What the heck is bunsens?" asked Dipper.

"Money," replied Sam. "He wants our monies."

"Look, dudes," said Wendy, stepping forward, "we don't have any money, alright? Let's be cool about this..."

The imps looked up at her. All of a sudden, they descended into a cacophony of wolf-whistling and ogling.

"Ah will make ye much, gentlemen," said Jem, raising a slightly hairy eyebrow. "Ah lit ye gang withit a barnie, if ye hain ginger hen, reit?"

"If I...what ginger hen?" quizzed Wendy, tilting her head.

"We want yer hen tae uir guidwife, och aye?" replied Jem.

"I think they want to marry you," whispered Dipper. "I know, I've dealt with this before."

"Okay, that is _disgusting_ and _entirely_ creepy," replied Wendy, "No dice, dude."

"Thaur is nae 'dude' haur!" shouted Jem, offended. "Thaur ur only Jem th' Stoatin an' Powerful!"

"Yeah, you know what else there is, Jem?" snapped Sam, "Two words – _Summer Knight._"

He bared the mark on his wrist.

"Ah dinnae caur if ye ur th' kin' ay Scootlund!" thundered Jem, "_Gie wrecked, mucker!_"

The imps raised their daggers and screamed out a war cry.

"_BARNIE! BARNIE! BARNIE!_"

"Well, this'll be fun," said Sam, smirking a little.

* * *

><p>"Well, this is the place."<p>

Mabel looked over the small cottage, built out of stone with a thatched roof and covered lightly with moss and vines on the left and frost on the right. A small garden surrounded the building. Around them, the forest was no longer covered in frost and snow – it was still cold, but it looked almost like a late-autumn setting.

"Hmm," mused Gordon, "they've redecorated since I last visited."

"When was that?" asked Mabel.

"Forty-two."

Mabel's eyes widened.

"_Forty-two?!_" she exclaimed, "Nineteen-forty-two?!"

"Well, it was _a_ '42, I guess," shrugged Gordon. "Depends, who was King of Spain at the time...doesn't matter. Can I trust you all to be polite and respectful?"

"Yep!" nodded Mabel.

"Sure, dog!" said Soos, raising his eyebrow.

"I'll wait outside," grunted Stan.

"First bit of good news I've heard all day," muttered Gordon. "Alright, steel yourselves. Last time I came in here, I spent a week fist-fighting _The Scream_."

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, which swung soundlessly open. Gordon, Mabel and Soos gazed into sheer darkness.

"_Enter,_" an old, raspy voice whispered.

"Well, they still have a knack for theatrics," muttered Gordon. "Stan, keep watch. We'll be about a minute from your perspective."

"What do you mean 'from his perspective?'" asked Mabel as they stepped into the cottage.

"The Mothers of Summer and Winter care very little for such petty things as time, space and logic, kid," replied Gordon. "As long as you don't go out of your way to annoy them, you should be out before your nineteenth birthday."

Mabel gulped.

With a sudden crash, the door slammed behind them.

"Uh, dude, can I wait outside?" asked Soos. "This is kind of creepy..."

"Welcome."

Suddenly, the world around them lit up. They were standing in a kitchen, old fashioned and without any form of electricity. An elderly woman, clad in a faded violet-blue dress with her hair covered in a shawl, was sitting at a table and working a mortar and pestle. She looked up at them.

"Bow," hissed Gordon, bowing, "unless you want to leave as a squirrel."

Soos bowed immediately. About a second passed, then Gordon pushed Mabel into her own bow (she had stopped to think about whether she wanted to be a squirrel or not.)

"To what do we owe the pleasure, Sir Knight?" asked the old woman, "I wasn't expecting you. Or your...is that an ogre you have there?"

"Dude, not cool," grunted Soos.

The old woman turned her gaze to him. Soos shuddered as icy blue eyes pierced his own.

"I _did_ need a new dress..." she muttered

"Mother Winter, please, he didn't mean anything by it," said Gordon. "He's very new to the affairs of the Sidhe."

Mother Winter scoffed, but turned away from the now-sweating Soos.

"These are Mabel Pines and Soos Ramirez, ma'am," explained Gordon. "They are being hunted by the Morrigan."

"As far as I am aware," replied Mother Winter, "the Morrigan is after Stanford Pines."

"Stan Pines?"

Another woman, almost identical to Mother Winter except with green eyes and dress, burst out from behind the table.

"Oh, it's been far too long since I saw him," she exclaimed. "Of course, I'd say it was more 'spied on him from a distance' but still, he was a nice man. Where is he?"

"Waiting outside," replied Soos, shrugging.

"Shame, I'd have liked to see him," nodded the woman. "Oh, where are my manners? You may call me Mother Summer. What do you ask of us?"

"We need to know why the Morrigan's after us," replied Mabel. "What did Grunkle Stan do to her?"

"Your 'grunkle,'" replied Mother Winter, scorn underlining the word, "has access to information and knowledge of great value. She believes it can be found in your 'Mystery Shack.' She is wrong. This, you will understand, is not a good thing for you."

"What do you mean?" asked Mabel.

"It means what the Morrigan wants exists only within the mind of Stanford Pines," replied Mother Summer, "and that she will hunt him to the ends of the Earth."

"What information is this, madam?" asked Gordon.

Mothers Summer and Winter glanced at each other and nodded.

"Upstairs," said Winter. "This is going to take a long time to explain."

* * *

><p>Dipper swung a branch at one of the last imps, knocking him head-first into a tree. Not far away, Wendy was holding Jem up by the leg with her left arm, punching him as if he were a form of piñata with the right.<p>

"It is sae painful!" exclaimed Jem. "It is also huir uv a hot! Ah regrit naethin'!"

"Go long, Wendy!" called Sam, giggling a little.

Wendy threw Jem over her shoulder, sending him flying off into the trees. As he flew, he screamed out a last statement.

"Thes isnae dain, ye haur? I've only jist began tae barnie!"

He slammed into a thick tree and slid down the trunk, out cold.

Wendy dusted off her hands as Dipper threw up his hands, whooping. They paused as they heard the sound of hysterical laughter.

Sam was doubled over, leaning against a tree as he laughed heartily. He began to stop as he noticed Dipper and Wendy staring at him.

"Uh...it wasn't that great, man," said Dipper, "You okay?"

"Sorry," nodded Sam, catching his breath, "Comes with being the Summer Knight. Probably shouldn't hang about here too long – someone probably heard that. Come on, let's get to the..."

He snickered a little.

"...let's get to the Lake."

He mopped his brow and began to continue on his way. Dipper and Wendy glanced at one another.

"Is it just me," asked Dipper, "Or is he creepier than we first thought?"

"Definitely creepier, Dip," replied Wendy, "_Definitely_."

They followed on after him, slightly more wary than before.

* * *

><p><strong>CP' UJ GCK OCP 'CJ ZCE 'CJ JV' POBRY CP' NLOOZ LCAY CE UQNK RYCLPYZ JCY XYCL JV' QOPKJYL SPOOP CK JCC LYZ. <strong>

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, it was filler. Brace yourselves for next time, though. Backstory is coming.<p> 


	6. Chapter 5: Tale of the Morrigan

And so we enter the expositional part of our tale.

Review replies:

**TweenisodeOrange:** Stan _always_ has a mysterious past. All will be explained in time...I guess now is a good time. :P Thanks for the review.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: Tale of the Morrigan<br>**

The Lake was not particularly large, but it was imposing. Mist blanketed the woods around, and it seemed the sun had permanently been hidden by cloud. The temperature had dropped – it was not cold, but it was certainly chilly. Dipper shivered as he looked over the murky waters.

"Well," said Sam, "this is the place."

"So what do we do now?" asked Wendy.

"Now?" replied Sam. "Now we wait."

The water began to ripple.

"Though not for very long," he added.

Slowly, perhaps even gracefully, a woman emerged from the waters. Unusually tall, with short, almost boyish black hair, she wore what looked a red flapper's dress from the Twenties. Hazel eyes gazed at her visitors as her mouth twisted into a slight grin.

"...Are you telling me the Lady of the Lake's a flapper?" whispered Dipper. Sam shushed him.

The woman – the Lady of the Lake – stopped when she reached the shore and put one hand on her shoulder.

"Need somethin', Sam?" she asked.

"Ma'am," nodded Sam, "I'm here on business. It's about the Morrigan."

"Figured that much," nodded the Lady of the Lake. "Who're those numbers?"

She motioned to Dipper and Wendy.

"D-Dipper Pines, ma'am," gulped Dipper, awkwardly bowing. "This is Wendy."

"'Sup," said Wendy, waving casually.

"Hey, don't bow," advised the Lady. "Be cool, like your moll there. I don't bite."

"Like his what?" asked Wendy, tilting her head.

"So," added the Lady, turning back to Sam, "you know I'm gonna want some scratch for this, right?"

"You _do_ know I can't give you blood sacrifice or a new vessel?" replied Sam.

Dipper and Wendy recoiled. Sam chuckled.

"Ah, gets 'em every time," he said. "Don't worry, ma'am, I have what you're after." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small satchel, handing it over to the Lady.

"Samuel Scotford, you are an angel," grinned the Lady. "So, what do you wanna know?"

"Where did the Morrigan come from?" asked Dipper.

The Lady glanced at Sam, who shrugged and nodded.

"Well, that's a long story..."

* * *

><p>The upstairs room of the cottage was not exactly roomy, but still looked bigger than it should have (especially since the cottage was a bungalow on the outside). A large table was positioned in the middle with just enough seats for the whole group. Around them were a series of paintings, depicting what Mabel guessed were noblewomen, soldiers in ancient armour and abstract images of Summer and Winter, arranged in no particular order. At the back of the room was a large, empty picture frame, taking up almost the entire wall.<p>

"It begins long ago, in the mists of time," proclaimed Mother Summer dramatically.

"The 300s AD, actually," muttered Mother Winter.

The group sat at the table, Gordon immediately resting his cheek on his fist in boredom – evidently he had heard this one before.

"The Morrigan is not so much a person as a...Mantle," explained Mother Winter. "She moves from person to person, tempting them to take her name and then subverting their persona, their very form, everything they are into a mirror of herself. They become the avatar to the war goddess."

"Kinda creepy, dude," nodded Soos.

"She's a _goddess?_" exclaimed Mabel. "But...but doesn't that mean she could wave her hands and get what she wants?"

"Ah, dude, she could just poof us out of existence!" exclaimed Soos.

"I said she was a goddess, I never said she was an especially powerful one," replied Mother Winter. "She is hardly an Olympian – she cannot 'poof' you anywhere."

"We can, though," said Mother Summer. "Wanna see?"

"No, probably not," muttered Gordon.

"Spoilsport," muttered Mother Summer. "Anyway, the Mantle of the Morrigan was created by a trio of Irish sorceresses, around the time of the Formorian Wars – no, you don't need to know who they were. They were trying to enhance their power – and it worked. But then there was infighting, things went wrong, and one of them became the first avatar of the Morrigan as she is today. The other two...well, some things are too ugly to be repeated."

"So began a cycle of war," continued Mother Winter, pointing to the blank portrait – it changed to a painting of a battle, with the Morrigan at the head of an army of ancient Celtic warriors. "The Morrigan raised armies of thralls and fought the Formorians out of Ireland. Then she crossed the Irish Sea and drove the Romans from England. It was clear she intended to form an empire of her own – but before she could descend on Europe, she was stopped."

"One of the first Winter Knights did that," said Gordon. slightly smugly. "You'd know the fellow as Vortigern. Sure, defeating her kind of broke him, but still, Winter one, Summer zero."

"And Pettiness ten, evidently," scolded Mother Winter.

"She was locked away by the Winter Queen," said Mother Summer. "She sat there for centuries, until she was accidentally unleashed."

"Unleashed," added Mother Winter, "by a man named Stanford Pines."

* * *

><p>"<em>Grunkle Stan?<em>" exclaimed Dipper.

"You know the fella?" asked the Lady. "Heh, small world."

"He's my great uncle, yeah," nodded Dipper. "I really should stop being surprised when I learn these things about him."

"Anyway," continued the Lady, crossing her arms, "Stan was workin' with this researcher – can't remember his name, weird bird though – and he and this skinny fella..."

"McGucket?" asked Wendy.

"Yep, that's the ticket," nodded the Lady. "So they ended up wandering into Faerie – don't ask how – and accidentally let the Morrigan loose. Got into a town called..."

"Let me guess, Gravity Falls?" interrupted Dipper.

"On the money," nodded the Lady. "Hey, _you_ should be the Lady of the..."

"Pass."

"So anyway," continued the Lady, "Stan, Mc-Gee and that researcher managed to catch the Morrigan with the help of these fellas called the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel, but she ended up swearing revenge – said she'd take whatever Stan most held dear away from him, then kill him. Nice stuff."

"So that's what she wants with the Shack," realised Dipper. "She wants what Stan loves the most."

"Well, she can't have it," shrugged Wendy. "The register's bolted down."

"Ma'am, does the Morrigan even _know_ what Stan cares about most yet?" asked Sam. "Or is she playing by ear?"

"She _didn't_ know," replied the Lady, "but now she's gotten a pretty good once-over of the Mystery Shack..."

She raised an arm, a transparent window opening in the air next to her. It showed the Morrigan in Stan's office, holding a framed picture – a wicked smirk crossed her features.

"...and she's got a pretty good idea," finished the Lady.

"So that's all she wants?" asked Sam. "Dipper, Mabel and Stan? No world domination plan, no ulterior motive, just...revenge?"

"Well, not at the moment," shrugged the Lady. "Might move up to that later, though."

"Well, that's not as bad as I thought," nodded Sam.

"_Are you serious?_"

Wendy grabbed him by the collar, her face turning red.

"Those are my _friends_ you're talking about, you jerk!" snapped Wendy. "Far as I'm concerned, this is just as bad as taking over the world, you get me?!"

"Well, yeah, but it's easier to handle. Might actually be fun, you..."

"_Easier to handle?!_" spluttered Wendy. "_Fun? _What is _wrong _with you?"

There was a long silence.

"Okay," replied Sam, "first of all, I mean this would be easier to _prevent_. I'm not giving Dipper over to anyone."

"Thanks man," muttered Dipper, waving his hand.

"Second of all," continued Sam, "I'm kinda used to a different field of play. My last two assignments were a sludge demon and an einherjar separatist with an attitude problem and a small army. Compared to that, one shapeshifting magician is small potatoes. What I call a one-knight job."

Wendy glowered, and said nothing. She did let go of his collar, though.

"Look, I'm sorry about the attitude," Sam said as he rubbed his neck. "It comes with the territory. The Summer Knight ain't just a job – it's a Mantle."

"Like the Morrigan?" exclaimed Dipper, horrified.

"Nothing like that, kid," replied Sam, "Nowhere near as _severe_..."

* * *

><p>"...it's different," said Gordon. "Not so much a hostile transformation as it is a new set of instincts."<p>

The conversation had turned over to the Mantle of the Winter Knight. Mabel and Soos were looking at Gordon with wide-eyed expressions – the latter had his hands over his mouth.

"It's the same with most senior positions in the courts," continued Gordon. "The Ladies, the Queens, the Mothers, the Knights – even some of the regular Sidhe have Mantles of Power. It's not exactly unusual in this world."

"But Gordon!" exclaimed Mabel. "You're taking over people's minds!"

"We are not and I resent that accusation!" snapped Gordon. "With the exception of the Morrigan, all Mantles are taken voluntarily, give or take. Sure, the courts may push you into a situation where saying no is basically self-destruction, but it's still fundamentally a choice. At least, at _my_ level."

"But what drives people to take up a mantle?" asked Mabel, "Why would anyone want to be the Winter Knight? ...No offence."

"Various reasons," shrugged Gordon. "Some wanted the power the Winter Knight's Mantle offers, for good or ill. Some wanted to pay off a debt to the Queen. Some do it for the adventure, really. For me, it was a way out of a firing squad."

"Dude, what?" blurted Soos.

"You were gonna be _shot?_" exclaimed Mabel.

"Uh-huh," nodded Gordon. "Badajoz, 1812. Altercation with commanding officer ended...badly. Don't regret it, the man was an absolute pig. Still, I decided that taking up the offer of the Mantle was better than being shot at dawn, you know?"

"Do you still think that?" asked Mabel.

Gordon didn't reply for a few seconds.

"So," he said, changing the subject, "the question is, how do we keep you and Johnny Con-Man out of the Morrigan's hands?"

"I have a solution," replied Mother Winter. "You must draw her into battle on favourable ground."

* * *

><p>"Somewhere we'd have the advantage," nodded Dipper, "But where?"<p>

"There are special places on Earth," replied the Lady, "Sorta ethereal places, where so many people have died that the borders between the physical and spiritual get corrupted. Places like that do weird things to a lot of magic users – if you set a trap for her in one of those spots, you could trap her mantle, prevent her from taking a new host. You follow?"

"Where are we gonna find somewhere like that?" asked Dipper.

"We need a battlefield," replied Sam. "And I think I know where we can find one."

He crossed his arms. "Pack your bags, we're going to Belgium," he declared.

"Well, see ya round, Sam," nodded the Lady, raising the satchel. "I'm gonna go see a man about a dog."

She glanced into the trees.

"Just a heads up before I go," she said.

"Yeah?" asked Wendy.

"Ya might wanna run."

She grinned and let herself fall backwards into the lake. As she did, a cry emerged from the trees.

"Thaur! Thaur's th' hen an' 'er gang!"

"Darn imps never let anything go, do they?" muttered Sam.

Another voice, far deeper, called out from the trees.

"_We terld de Summer Witch 'er agents weren't welcome e'yer!_" it thundered, "_Am go'n ter 'ang their skulls ed me wall and make their fingers into puns!_"

Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Lesser goblins," he muttered, "Time to go."

"Can we get to Belgium?" asked Dipper.

"Nope," replied Sam, "We're going..._here. Agorfa!_"

He held up his hand and opened a green, square portal. He then grabbed Dipper and Wendy and pulled them in.

"Not again," Dipper managed to groan before he sank into the portal.

* * *

><p>"So we have to trap her on a battlefield," nodded Mabel. "Well, that doesn't sound that hard."<p>

"Oh, it's hard," replied Gordon. "It's just _less hard_ than the alternative, which is a head-on assault. You're gonna need to be ready."

He turned to the two Mothers.

"These two will die hilariously easily if we let them take the Morrigan now," he said. "But we need them to spring the trap, and we'd _prefer_ them to survive said trap. I humbly request your help in readying them for what will happen."

The two Mothers glanced at each other.

"Agreed," nodded Mother Summer, "Provided you and Stan run an..._errand_ for us in the meantime..."

Gordon deflated.

"Yep, should've seen that coming," he muttered, "It's always _deals_ with the fae..."

* * *

><p><strong>EOI'Z JVUPS GY AOIRZP'J JLIKJ KJCP OL KOQYJVUPW. <strong>

* * *

><p>AN: Flapper Lady of the Lake. Can't say it ain't original.<p> 


	7. Chapter 6: Globetrotters

In which Stan and Gordon go on a fetch-quest while Dipper and Wendy wind up in the wrong hemisphere.

Review replies:

**TweenisodeOrange:** I like E3's Lady too, remind me to have him subvert expectations more often. Thanks for reading. :)

**OMAC001:** I'm glad you liked it, and thanks for reviewing!

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Globetrotters<strong>

Dipper climbed out of the bushes, dusting himself off as he grabbed his hat off the dusty ground by the river. He looked around, crossing his arms as Sam and Wendy climbed to their feet next to him.

"Oh yeah," he nodded, "this is _totally_ Belgium. I can tell by the _gum trees_."

"It's not so bad, Dip," shrugged Wendy, smirking. "After all, Soos _did_ say you liked eucalyptus..."

"Not in front of the Summer Knight, Wendy," grunted Dipper.

Sam raised an eyebrow but decided not to ask.

"Well, I hope you like walking," he said. "We've ended up Down Under, and opening Ways works differently here. Unless you wanna end up in the Dreamtime, we're gonna have to find a different spot to get back. Which means..."

He licked his finger and held it up.

"...we're going _this_ way!"

He pointed downstream, towards the setting sun.

"Wow, we've been wasting time," he mused. "Okay, we're gonna camp here and head out in the morning. You two okay with sleeping rough?"

"Sure, my family do it all the time," shrugged Wendy. "You okay, Dipper?"

Dipper nodded hesitantly. "Uh, sure, okay," he replied, "but, aren't there deadly insects in Australia?"

"Oh yeah," nodded Sam. "Insects, dingoes, snakes, poisonous plants, red-back spiders...you get the idea."

Dipper blinked. Then he began to climb a tree.

"What're you doing?" asked Wendy.

"I'm sleeping in this tree," replied Dipper.

"Good plan," nodded Sam. "But watch out for koalas. They bite."

Dipper shuddered but continued to climb.

* * *

><p>"Alright, we're looking for a guy named Derek Cole," said Gordon. "Lives in a pad in front of the Bay."<p>

He and Stan were walking through the Vancouver Bay area, slinking through the crowds and trying to look inconspicuous – difficult when one of them wore a fez and the other had a rapier on his belt, but they managed somehow.

"So he's some kind of bachelor or something?" asked Stan. "Do we really have to deal with him? He sounds like a hipster."

"Oh, he's the opposite," Gordon replied. "He's...uh...he's a _bro_. He's the...uh..._ultimate _bro."

"I hate him already," grunted Stan.

"Join the club," nodded Gordon. "Well, this is the place."

The two walked into an apartment building and headed straight for the elevator. Gordon closed the lift doors and pressed a button.

"_Hey bros, you've reached the Delta-Iota-Omicron fraternity, man_," a deep, almost surfer-esque voice said from the speakers in the lift. "_If you wish to enter, you gotta bring tribute in form of...uh...Alex, what don't we have enough of, man?_"

There was a whispering sound.

"_Beer. Yeah, you wanna come in, bro, you need the beers._"

Gordon rolled his eyes.

"Cut it, Dionysus, I'm here on Court business," snapped Gordon.

"No you're no-" began Stan.

Gordon shushed him.

"_Oh, Gordon, hi!_" exclaimed the voice. "_You still got a stick up your butt, bro?_"

"Very funny," muttered Gordon. "I'm here to make a trade – information for contraband. I'm sure Mother Winter filled you in?"

"_Uh, yeah man, I'm altering the deal, dude, pray I do not alter it more,_" the voice replied. "_Y'know, Darth Vader and all? Look, we're gonna need to renegotiate, so...look, come on up, alright?_"

The lift began to move.

"This bodes poorly," muttered Gordon.

"So that's _Dionysus?_" exclaimed Stan. "The Greek god Dionysus?!"

"Oh yeah," nodded Gordon. "His avatar, at any rate. I went to one of his parties once – official representative of the Court, for some reason. Fairly sure the Winter Lady was just screwing with me. Anyway, it turns out if you drink one of his..._beverages_...one of three things happens – you hallucinate for a week, you instantly become a demigod, or you die horribly. True story. Also, a bloke I knew tried to eat a pillar he was _sure_ was made of cake and now he'll never eat again..."

"I don't wanna hear your stories anymore," snapped Stan.

He noticed the lift had stopped.

"Are you procrastinating?" he demanded.

"Yes," Gordon replied bluntly.

"Come on," grunted Stan, "let's get this over with."

* * *

><p>Night had fallen.<p>

Wendy lay next to a dying fire, gazing up at the stars and waiting for sleep to come. Above her, nestled in the branches of a gum tree, Dipper snored quietly as a koala gently nibbled on his vest. There was no sign of Sam – he had headed into the trees, ostensibly to look for more branches for the fire.

"Can't sleep?"

Wendy sat up. Sam had arrived back at the camp, a stack of branches under his arm.

"Nah," shrugged Wendy.

"I get that," nodded Sam. "I mean, things are probably gonna go down soon. I'd be surprised if _I_ got any sleep, not that I really need it right now."

He dropped the branches onto the fire, before sitting down on a nearby log and leaning his axe against it.

"So," asked Wendy, "where'd you come from?"

"Over there," replied Sam, pointing into the trees.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "You know what I'm saying, Sam," she said.

Sam gazed out over the river, into the reflected moon.

"I originally came from Colorado," he began. "Out in the Rockies, you know? Nice little town, you've probably never heard of it."

He looked at his hands. "I've always been a practitioner...that's what you'd call someone who can do magic," he continued, "But I never really wanted anything to do with it, you know? I didn't wanna be a wizard, I wanted to help people."

"Can't a wizard help people?" asked Wendy.

"From my experience, most wizards get drunk with power very quickly. I didn't want to be like that." He shook his head. "Ah well, too late now," he sighed.

"How'd you wind up with the Summer Court?" asked Wendy.

"Summer?" replied Sam. "That's a long story. There was a salamander...no, not _that_ salamander, this is a different one, six legs, sets itself on fire when agitated...and it wandered into town. Long story short, it holed up in an elementary school and somebody set it off."

"Ouch," winced Wendy.

"I was with the fire brigade at the time," continued Sam. "I was first on the scene – ended up trapped in with a bunch of kids, basically doomed, you know? And that's when Summer offered me a deal."

"Let me guess," said Wendy. "Save the kids, but become the Summer Knight?"

Sam nodded. "It seemed like a good deal," he sighed, "The kids got out and all I had to do in return were some odd jobs for the Summer Court. Except it's more than that – I have to kill people, to lie, to ruin...I'm basically a glorified hitman." He scratched his chin. "Except when I'm told to stop Gordon from doing the same," he admitted.

Wendy crossed her arms. "You didn't seem to have a problem with this earlier," she reminded. "When we were fighting the imps?"

"That's what the Mantle does, Wendy," replied Sam. "It changes you. It makes it..._fun_, even addictive. It gets into your head, you know? Pretty soon you can't tell what's you talking and what's the Mantle. I've been in about ten years now, and...it gets kinda hard." He shook his head. "No idea how Gordon's lasted as long as he has," he mused, "I think he's just driven by contempt for everything."

"Or he's already such a jerk that the Mantle can't enhance it," shrugged Wendy.

Sam smirked. "I gotta tell the Queen that one."

Wendy glanced at Sam's axe.

"So, why does a knight have a fire-axe?" she asked.

"Oh, this?" replied Sam, hefting it. "It's my old axe from the fire department. Steel blade. The fae hate that – the iron burns them, they call it 'cold' iron, or just 'the bane'. The stuff's like poisonous, white-hot depleted uranium to faeries. Kinda useful for my Knight work."

Wendy smirked and nodded. Then her face became serious again.

"Do you still have any family?" she asked.

Sam shook his head. "They all think I died in the fire," he replied, sadly. "Probably for the best. If they ever saw me now...no, the old Sam Scotford died. Died a hero, too. Better for them to think that."

"You don't actually _want_ to die, do you?" asked Wendy, concerned.

Sam didn't reply.

"Do you regret what you did?" she asked, softly.

"Not for a minute," replied Sam instantly. "If you'd ever been in my shoes, Wendy, you'd understand. I hope you never have to."

He looked back out at the river.

"Of course, if the time ever comes, you may not get a choice."

* * *

><p>Dionysus did not look much like a god.<p>

He wore his curly, messy hair down to shoulder length, and his squarish face was lined with a small moustache and beard. He wore a stained white t-shirt that read 'VOTE 4 DIO', blue boxers and no pants. Behind him, a man with blonde, curly hair sat on a messy couch, watching reruns of Friends on a plasma television.

Stan, who was standing in the doorframe with Gordon, wanted desperately to leave. The stench was overwhelming.

"So, Gordon, my man," said Dionysus, "I'm gonna have to ask for a little more off the top, you know. Times are gettin' hard, you know, and..."

"Do you want alcohol?" grunted Gordon.

"Copious amounts," replied Dionysus.

Gordon rolled his eyes.

"We will deliver twelve hundred gallons to a drop off point written on this scrap of paper," he muttered, pulling a slip of paper from his jacket. "That's as high as we go, Dionysus. Be happy."

Dionysus clapped his hands together.

"Good news Alex!" he called. "We're gettin' fae booze!"

Alex fist-bumped the air in acknowledgement.

"Now for my end of the deal," snapped Gordon. "Give it over, Dio."

"Sure thing, bro," nodded Dionysus. "Just let me grab it...I think I left it my old pants, hopefully I haven't washed 'em..."

"Trust me, you haven't," muttered Stan dryly.

"Yeah, probably not, back in a sec," said Dionysus, heading further into his apartment.

Gordon mopped his brow and turned to Stan.

"Alright, when we get this, we do not open it," he ordered. "This is between the Mothers and Olympus, you understand?"

"What does any of this have to do with the Morrigan?" demanded Stan. "We're supposed to be protecting Dipper and Mabel here, not..."

"And if we do this, the Mothers will teach Mabel and Soos to defend themselves," snapped Gordon.

"And Dipper?" replied Stan.

"Scotford's an idiot but he's not stupid," replied Gordon. "He'll toughen Dipper up. Mark my words."

There was a long silence.

"Scotford's an idiot but...that makes no sense," said Stan.

"Shut up," grunted Gordon.

Not long after, Dionysus returned with a small envelope.

"Found it, it was under my undies from last night," he said, holding it up. "Here you go!"

Stan and Gordon stared at the yellowed paper. Gordon sighed, pulled some gloves from his jacket, slipped them on and took the envelope.

"Well, hopefully we won't have to deal with you again for a very long time," he muttered. "Goodbye, Dionysus, please don't call me."

He turned and walked away, Stan following eagerly.

* * *

><p>"He has the envelope," said Mother Summer, looking up from her spot at the end of the table.<p>

Mabel looked up from the meal they had given her – she had deliberately not asked what the meat was – and watched as the two Mothers got up, walking back over to the blank picture frame.

"Well, he's held his end of the bargain," nodded Mother Winter. "We'd best uphold ours. Tell Gordon and Stanford to continue to Belgium; we shall send Mabel and Soos there shortly."

"What's going on, dudes?" asked Soos.

"Your training begins now," replied Mother Winter. "Be warned, this will be very disorientating."

"By which we mean 'this gun' be trippy,'" smirked Mother Summer.

"Trippy?" quizzed Mabel. "What do you mean..."

The two Mothers pointed at the blank painting. There was a flash, and for a few seconds Mabel blacked out. When she came to, she was standing in a strange-looking field of wheat that stretched for miles in all directions – or at least she thought it did, because her depth-perception seemed to have failed.

She looked down at her hands. They looked rather inky and oily, as if she were paint on a canvas. Which matched her surroundings. And Soos, who was looking at his arms and saying 'oooh...'

Mother Summer had not been lying, it seemed.

"_Sorry about turning you into paintings,_" said Mother Summer, "_b__ut we need a blank canvas to work with. Heh, get it?! Seriously, you deal with the fae, you're gonna have to get used to this. Anyway, let's begin._"

Before their eyes, a windmill appeared, as if painted extremely quickly by a Van Gogh imitator. It towered above them, dark and uninviting.

Soos shrugged.

"Eh, this could be fun, dude," he shrugged. "I mean, glass half full, right?"

"Soos, you're a prophet of our time," grinned Mabel.

* * *

><p><strong>KOQYZCE KOOP VY'RR WYJ VUK GUKV. <strong>

* * *

><p>AN: To make Dionysus instantly funnier, imagine his every line read by Jeff Bridges.<p> 


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